


Bad Magic

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Clumsy!Steve, Comedy, Fluff, Get Together, M/M, Magic, Mystery, Playing Fast and Loose with Comic Canon Characters, Romance, flustered!tony, psychological de-aging, silliness, the team feels like teenagers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-30
Updated: 2017-05-30
Packaged: 2018-11-06 18:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11042073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: Nat folded gracefully into a chair and cleared her throat. “I feel sixteen again,” she said carefully.





	Bad Magic

**Author's Note:**

> So, there is essentially an AU version of a comic character in here. I just used her broadly for inspiration and she’s in no way intended to be true to canon, as I don't know her that well. She does not feature heavily, but apologies if that upsets you ;).
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Thank you to my lovely beta, ashes0909, for being perfect and amazing and making me a better writer every day.

 

The team sprawled around the common room in various states of disrepair. Nat had a wicked bruise blooming across her cheek, Steve was bleeding on the carpet, Bruce was still shaking a little, and Tony - well Tony didn’t even want to know what he looked like. Probably something Not Good.

“She claims to be Hammer’s daughter,” Steve finally spoke up, breaking the long silence. He was looking at Nat, but Tony knew the statement was directed at him.

“Anyone can _claim_ anything they want,” Tony snapped back. His shoulder hurt and he couldn’t stop thinking about the cracked plate on the right arm of the armour. It was going to be a bitch to replace. If he could summon the energy to move, he’d go fix it now.

The girl in the magical, red wrap had put up a surprisingly effective fight before zapping away with a blinding flash of light. His pupils still felt a little abused. It was even worse than when Thor came crashing down to earth.

Steve huffed in irritation and Tony wondered, not for the first time, if getting laid might help relax him - he’d never met anyone so uptight. And, it wasn’t like Tony wouldn’t be willing to make that sacrifice and be the “some” Rogers was getting. You know, for the team, for _his country._

For that perfect ass.

Steve was now staring at him, as if he was the one being a perfect ass. “I’m just saying,” Tony went on. “We can’t know for sure. We don’t know who she is. We don’t even know what she looks like under that freaky thing.”

“Is she even human?” Nat spoke up. “That cloak, it was fighting _for_ her. It seemed like magic to me.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “I think she was human, but magic is definitely involved.”

The door crashed open and Clint sauntered in, decked out in civilian wear. His arms were full of small boxes. “What’s up, gang?” he sing-songed.

“Keep it down,” Tony, whined. “Some of us have concussions.”

“Here, this’ll help.” One of the boxes landed in Tony’s lap.

“Ooh, Thin Mints!” Tony scrambled to open the package. The box tore and he dumped a few out in his lap, handing the box to Bruce. They passed it around, each taking a handful, stuffing them in their mouths with obvious pleasure.

“So what happened?” Clint asked, settling on the back of the couch with a box of Tagalongs. “Where’s ThunderCat?”

Steve rolled his eyes. “Thor went back to Asgard for a bit. We got jumped in Queens by an unknown girl calling herself ‘Crimson Cloak’ and claiming to be Justin Hammer’s daughter. It didn’t go well. She got away.”

“Oh shit.” Clint chewed on his cookie thoughtfully. “I missed all the good stuff. Next time the Apocolypse comes while I’m on a cookie run can you beep me or something?”

“What’s beeping?” Steve asked, looking exhausted. “I just figured out Twitter.”

Bruce raised his hand, looking disturbed. “Okay, _I_ got that reference. And I did try texting you, but you didn’t answer.”

Clint pulled his phone out and looked at it. “Huh, so you did.” He looked entirely unperturbed.

“Well thank you, Buffy, for all your help, but we’re done, we’re alive, we didn’t win, but we didn’t exactly lose either, so I’m taking it as a win. I’m also taking tylenol and a brain-cell killing amount of something amber in a glass. Goodnight.” Tony grabbed another handful of cookies from the Thin Mints package. Steve was giving him A Look™. He gave him one back.

“You have chocolate on your face.” Steve said.

Tony stormed out.

**

He continued his storming when he got to the workshop. The mention of Hammer had made him pissy and sensitive. And then even pissier about the fact that it made him pissy and sensitive.

Hammer had never mentioned a kid. The idea of someone wanting to be naked around him was so bizarre it was hard to see how it was even possible.

Tony pulled the damaged section of the armour onto his workbench and started ripping into it with his heaviest-duty pliers. The piece wouldn’t budge.

He was working his way through his rather impressive collection of expletives when the door slid open. He knew it was Steve without looking - he just radiated Steveness all the time.

“Just the gym rat I need,” Tony drawled, spinning to face him. “Put those government-sponsored muscles to good use, would ya?”

Steve eyed him for a moment then held out a hand. Tony passed over the pliers and pointed to the offending piece. Steve dug in, bicep rippling as he twisted the tool. Tony took the opportunity to enjoy the view.

And it was a damn fine view.

He suddenly realized Steve’s mouth was moving too. “- and I hope you didn’t think I was putting some kind of pressure on you about it.”

“Huh?”

Steve paused his twisting and looked at Tony with concern. “Were you serious about the concussion?”

Tony waved it off. “Nah, I was just deeply distracted by your arms. Tax dollars well spent, I’d say.”

Steve blushed. “I was just saying that I didn’t mean to put you on the spot about Hammer.”

“Not your fault, Cap. It’s a touchy subject, I guess.”

Steve continued to work on the metal for a while, managing to get the piece wriggled half-way out of where it was embedded. He paused, stretching out his shoulder for a moment.

It was theoretically possible that Hammer had a kid, and even though Tony hated him with a fiery passion, the man did have a certain amount of intelligence - or at least determination - that made him dangerous.

“She might be, she might not be,” Tony answered the unasked question. “But no matter what, she’s dangerous. She almost took us out. If she hadn’t decided to scarper, I really don’t know which way that would have gone. It looks like she has at least some kind of magic on her side... I guess what I’m saying is: we can’t just forget about her.”

Steve nodded and gave the metal one final tug, pulling it free. He handed the twisted panel and the pliers to Tony. “We’ll have to be on high alert.”

“Mhm.” Tony turned the damaged piece over and over in his hands, running his thumb along the jagged edge.

Steve hung there, in comfortable silence, watching Tony. Then he reached out and ran his hand affectionately over the metal surface of the armour. It made the arc reactor do funny things in Tony’s chest.

“You know,” Steve said slowly. “I don’t think I’ve ever told you how amazing this is. I think it’s really incredible that you built this.” He gestured to the workshop at large. “That you build all of this. Your mind…” Steve trailed off, his gaze coming back to Tony.

Well. That was a thing. “Uh?” Tony tried.

Steve seemed satisfied that Tony wasn’t having some kind of breakdown - or concussion-related episode - despite his lack of words, because he gave him an awkward pat on the shoulder and walked out.

Tony watched him go, tipping his head to the side to get the best angle.

When did an attraction turn into a crush? At first he’d kind of hated Steve, although he’d admitted from day one that he was fucking gorgeous. Now it was… up and down. Steve had a way of driving Tony up the wall with only a few words, or a certain look. But he also sometimes drove him crazy in another way - also with only a few words or a certain look.

And then he’d go and say things like that. He loved the armour? Tony loved the armour. He didn’t think anyone else, except five-year-old boys who wanted to be able to fly away when their parents tried to send them to bed, loved the armour.

Steve thought he was incredible.

Tony fiddled with the metal edges some more.

Yup. It was definitely a proper crush at this point.

He tossed the metal aside and headed for the bar.

**  
  
Tony woke the next morning feeling sullen and off-kilter. His brain itched with that unshakeable feeling that he had forgotten something important, but try as he might, he couldn’t figure out what.

He’d had one of those dreams where you’re late for an exam and then you get there and it’s the airport and you’ve forgotten your passport and the desk agent laughs at you and you realize you’re naked. One of those dreams that stays with you all day.

He staggered around the kitchen in a bit of a haze, giving in to a sudden longing for milk and pop tarts over his usual black coffee and nothing. The sugar hit his system hard and he made a beeline for the workshop, ideas already swirling around in his creative brain, smashing into each other and generally making a mess.

He hauled out seven different projects, ignoring the warning twinge low in his back while re-orienting the sixth, and spent the next three hours flitting between them like a hummingbird on speed.

Deep in the trance of manic mechanical engineering, he almost didn’t notice when JARVIS lowered the music to signal someone’s arrival. He glanced up, hoping it might be someone bringing food, and saw Steve through the glass walls of his workshop, picking his way down the hall over-carefully. He turned to enter the workshop, but missed the doorway by about half a Steve and ricocheted off the frame, back into the hall. He blushed red and tried again, successfully this time.

Tony smirked down at his oil-blackened hands, half buried in delicate machinery. “What’s up, Cap?”

Steve collapsed on the couch, shifting awkwardly on the cushions. “I feel strange today.” There was an odd lilt to his voice, a softening and rounding to the sounds, that usually only came out when he was very tired, or very angry. It reminded Tony of the videos he’d seen of Steve from back during the war, reading out lines pasted to the back of his shield, or answering questions at an interview. Very Brooklyn.

“Well, you look strange today,” he quipped back lightly.

Steve chuckled. “Thanks.”

Steve appeared destined to end up lost in thought, so Tony turned back to his work, but try as he might, he couldn’t focus. Steve was just sitting there - being Steve. He did it all the time. In fact, he spent most of most days sitting around being Steve in various ways.

But suddenly his close-sitting Steve-ness was driving Tony crazy.

He was doing this extra beautiful thing he did sometimes, all sprawled on the couch, being desirable, with a concerned, little crease in his forehead. Tony was able to ignore it, most of the time, but he was feeling hot and tingly and a little desperate this morning. Perhaps acknowledging his crush to himself yesterday had not been a smart thing to do.

Tony dropped the soldering iron and tried to do design planning instead. He tossed his phone down and watched as JARVIS projected his plans for project number four, in 3D, above the floor. He poked at it, but he couldn’t seem to hit the right spots.  

His hands normally moved through the holograms so easily, but his movement felt jerky and unsure. Several times he couldn’t remember the right gesture to do something simple, like delete a component, and he’d designed the system himself. It usually felt so intuitive, but today it felt awful and awkward instead. Either Steve was being about a thousand times more distracting than usual, or Tony was having a mental breakdown.

“JARVIS, do we have any Sprite?” he asked suddenly, the craving hitting him like an oncoming train.

JARVIS sounded somehow surprised, like Tony had never asked him for a Sprite before. He probably hadn’t, actually, but he wanted one badly now. “I’m afraid not, Sir.”

Steve laughed. “Really? Not whiskey?”

The thought was kind of repulsive: hot, acrid liquor searing his throat. He wanted soda, or pizza, or _fuck,_ a cigarette. It had been what, twenty years? since his last, but he could taste it like it was yesterday. He opened his mouth to ask JARVIS if there were any in the tower, but suddenly felt self-conscious about it, shooting a look to where Steve sat, looking contemplative, on the couch.

Steve would probably judge him for smoking; he seemed like the sort to be adamantly against it. Though he had been in the army, so maybe he had smoked too. I mean, it couldn’t hurt a super-soldier, so why wouldn’t he? There were probably lots of things he got up to in the army.

Tony choked on his own spit when his brain oh so helpfully supplied a safe-search-off, Google’s worth of images of what sorts of things Steve might have gotten up to in the army. “Jesus Christ,” he hissed out, trying to subtly ease the instant pressure in his pants. Really? A random boner, now? With Steve sitting right there, thinking at him? _Et tu, dick?_

He willed it down, thinking about anything but Steve, half-stripped of his uniform, spread out on a army cot, groaning and writhing and - _fuck_ that wasn’t helping. He wanted a Sprite, or a cigarette, and he wanted Steve, but he wasn’t getting any of those things.

He glared at the machinery in front of him. And this stupid piece of shit wasn’t going to work anyway. He huffed out a frustrated noise and kicked out at it half-heartedly. His erection subsided somewhat, but now he was back to feeling sullen and irritated.

Steve be damned, he was going to have that cigarette.

He stood, knees protesting his sudden movement, and opened his mouth again to ask JARVIS where he could find a nicotine hit, but then Steve was still there, giving him a concerned look and he spiralled all the way back down through the same anxiety loop and out the other side. He reeled from the emotional whiplash.

He felt late, without his passport, and naked all at once.

_What the fuck was going on?!_

“Tony? Are you o- ?” Steve stood up as he spoke but when he stepped forward he tripped over a blowtorch and landed against Tony’s chest. Tony squeaked, finding himself with a surprising armful of super-soldier, and his cruel, traitorous dick hardened painfully in his already tight jeans. Steve was bright red and stunned, his face so close to Tony’s he had to cross his eyes to take him in.

When Tony spoke his voice was high-pitched and weak. “I think there might be something wrong.”

**

They shuffled awkwardly upstairs, avoiding both eye contact and conversation with grim determination. JARVIS summoned the others and as soon as he saw Bruce’s face, he knew it wasn’t just them.

“Okay,” Tony started. “I’m just going to come out and say it - I feel really fucking weird right now.”

Steve squirmed in his seat and Bruce nodded. “Yeah me too.”

Tony tried to take a moment to define exactly what was weird. He felt emotional. Confused. He was craving things he hadn’t wanted in a long time. He tried to remember how he’d felt yesterday, about Hammer, and it was...oddly distant.

Nat folded gracefully into a chair and cleared her throat. “I feel sixteen again,” she said carefully.

Bruce stared at her. “Yeah, that’s it. Everything about being an adult is kind of... hazy. But everything from childhood is clearer. It’s like it’s been flipped. What’s a near memory and what’s distant.”

“I also feel unstable,” Tony added and Clint snorted. “It’s not just memory. My _body_ is acting sixteen again.” He thought about the surprising erections in the workshop and willed himself not to blush. “I ate pop tarts for breakfast.”

Nat frowned at him, pulling her feet up under her and wrapping her hands around them. She looked distinctly uncomfortable. She spoke a few words in Russian to Clint and he answered back, then turned to the group.

“I feel fine.”

“Really?” Steve finally spoke.

“Yeah, totally normal.” Clint shrugged.

Tony scoffed. “Well, you’re always sixteen, so that’s not surprising,”

“Har, har. Thanks, Stark. This from the guy who needs an AI in the ceiling to tell him when it’s time to go to bed.”

“For the last time, JARVIS does not live in the ceiling.”

“Sure, sure. Anyway, I feel completely myself. No weird memory thing, no unusual moodiness, no pop tarts. Well actually I did have pop tarts, but that’s normal for me. Just a regular day.”

They all sat in ponderous silence for a long time. Tony met Steve’s eyes over the table, and Steve somehow faxed a thought right into his brain. “You were the only one not there,” Tony said and Steve nodded.

“Where?” Clint asked.

“The Crimson Cloak. The fight yesterday. You were the only one not there. She has some kind of magical ability and she decided to bail on a fight she was winning. What if she whammied us?”

Tony met Steve’s eyes again and was deeply distracted by how blue they were. His stomach did several flip flops, a double twist, and stuck the landing, somewhere up around his throat. That man had no right being that beautiful, and no right being that beautiful _at_ Tony, in that distracting sort of way he was doing now. Being all starey and mind-thought-beamy.

God, this was awful.

Tony shifted in his seat, breaking their shared gaze, and willed his dick not to make another unwanted contribution to his life.

“Dr. Strange,” Bruce suggested suddenly, making Tony jump. “He handles this kind of thing.” He heard a _right?_ tacked on to the end of that and he knew why. All his adult knowledge was hazy and undefined. Nothing felt certain except that he suddenly really, really didn’t want to be sitting here anymore, for no apparent reason whatsoever.

“I vote Tony and Steve go to him and find out,” Clint volunteered. “Tony isn’t acting any different, ‘cause he’s always a surly teen, and therefore won’t arouse suspicion. And Steve is the most responsible teen in the group and will therefore keep him in line.”

“Why don’t you go?” Tony replied. “You’re apparently not affected at all!”

“Cause Dr. Strange _really hates me.”_

They all took a moment to remember the last time Clint and Dr. Strange had interacted.

“Yeah that’s probably for the best,” Steve concluded.

Steve rose to his feet, looking unusually pink and distressed, and tripped into the kitchen. He reached up to grab a water glass. The sound of his head cracking against the overhead cabinet made everyone cringe in unison.

Steve let out a pained breath then carefully filled his glass from the tap and drank it in one pull, leaning over the sink.

“Okay, fine, let’s get this over with before Steve knocks himself out on something.” Steve blushed deeper. Tony pointed at the others, lingering on Clint. “If you’re not going to have to subject yourself to His Mighty Magicness, then you’d better be doing research here while we’re gone.”

Bruce and Nat nodded, but Clint just shot him a cocky grin. That little shit was always up to something.

Tony and Steve agreed to reconvene by the kitchen in ten minutes then head out, despite heavy misgivings. Tony hit his room first, to grab his jacket and sunglasses, then made his way back down to the kitchen to wait for Steve, having nothing else in particular he needed to do first.

Natasha was the only one still there. Her back was to him and she was slicing sections off an apple with a scary looking knife and sliding them into her mouth. Her gaze was slack and off to the side, clearly seeing something other than the room in front of her. Tony sidled up beside her.

“Sharesies?”

He had never seen anyone move so fast in his life. For one heartbeat he was leaning casually against the counter, at her side, and by the next, he was pressed against the fridge, arms pinned to his sides, with the knife held too close against his throat.

“Nat?!” he yelped. “It’s just me. I’m sorry. It’s just me.”

They hung for a moment, her eyes fixed on him. The knife leaked a single droplet of apple juice on Tony’s collar. And then she moved away, released his neck, and sucked in a shaky breath.

“Sorry,” she muttered, setting the knife down next to her half-eaten fruit.

Tony rubbed his hand over his arm where she’d gripped him. “You ok?”

“Yeah, just… twitchy.”

“Fair enough.” He studied her. Her mouth was set in a tight line again, an air of discomfort settled around her once more. “We’ll get this sorted.”

“Hmm.” She looked away, across the room again.

Tony turned to go, figuring he should give her some privacy and wait for Steve in the hall, but before he reached the door she called after him, “Stark?’

He turned back and something flew across the room towards him. He flinched, his brain reminding him about the scary knife, but caught it anyway. It was a piece of apple. He looked up and Nat smiled. He saluted back and shoved the fruit in his mouth as he walked away.

Steve appeared not long after and Tony grabbed him by the sleeve and dragged him to the elevator. They made their way down to the garage on autopilot and Steve followed Tony to the Audi.

Tony slid into the driver’s seat and put his hands on the steering wheel. He shifted his feet against the pedals. His memories of driving were also hazy and dreamlike. He knew he’d done it, but the muscle memory wasn’t there for him to access. Hmm.

“Steve, I don’t think I can drive like this,” he admitted.

Steve gave him a considering look, probably trying to imagine leaning into turns on his bike with the same lack of success. He nodded. “Yeah, let’s walk. It’s not that far.”

Ew. “Or we could take a cab, like sane people.”

Steve looked pained. “Subway?” he offered, as if that was some sort of compromise.

Tony sighed and looked over at him. The grimy subway with grimy New Yorkers. Steve was looking back with this open, honest, pleased expression like he was _pre-grateful_ for when Tony would inevitably give in. It did awful things to his spine and his stomach and some other organs in the vague vicinity of his belly button.

This was agony. It was like Steve was crackling with some electric power, arcing off his skin and zapping Tony every time he got too close. He hadn’t felt like this since the time he’d fallen in love with his EngSci TA at MIT when he was 15. God, she was gorgeous.

He wandered down Memory Lane, took a sharp right turn onto Porny Lane, then shook himself violently when he found his mind reaching up to knock at the door that had “Porn Stars You’ve Watched That Look Like Steve Rogers” scrawled on the door.

Steve was still looking at him like a puppy that had learned to shake a paw.

“Fine.”

Tony blinked into the sun then shoved his sunglass on his face when they stepped out onto the sidewalk. New York was in full bustle mode. Steve seemed eager to be outside, bouncing on the balls of his feet and stumbling over every obstacle along the way.

He shifted to step around a bike and tripped sideways, bumping hard into Tony’s shoulder. He jerked back like he’d been burned, putting careful distance between them. Tony felt his face ignite and hoped his glasses would at least hide some of it. Or maybe he could claim sunburn.

Steve coughed and Tony jumped. Oh _god_ , this was agony.

For some reason, he kept imagining himself holding Steve’s hand. Like, he could just slip his fingers into his palm and Steve would hold his hand back and they’d be holding hands. Like eight-year-old girls, _argh._

But it would be nice.

And sweaty. He rubbed his palms on his jeans, then remembered there was no chance he’d be holding Steve’s hand, so it didn’t matter anyway. Tony sighed and tried to think of non-Steve things.

Steve misjudged a street corner, bounced off a tree and ended up pressed against Tony’s side, but he didn’t pull away this time.

**

The rest of the trip to Greenwich Village was uneventful. If you didn’t count a woman that smelled like cats falling asleep on Tony’s shoulder about two stops in, as an event. Steve seemed to think it was cute, which was the only explanation Tony could think of for why he let her stay there for several more stops instead of leaping to his feet, flying out of the subway, and calling a very expensive town car.

When they reached the Sanctum Sanctorum, an airy person in mystical-looking garb gave them a suspicious look, then ushered them into a small sitting room.

They sat side-by-side on uncomfortable armchairs and waited for Strange. There was an odd vase-like thing on the small table between them and Tony eyed it with concern. There were always too many artifacts around Strange. They did _things._ Like watch. And judge.

“I don’t even know how to describe this to him,” Steve admitted.

Tony shot a hand out in front of the vase before Steve could knock it over as he flailed his arms too wide.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

“Dude! Seriously. What is wrong with you? Were you, like, horrifically near-sighted as a teen? You can’t seem to move, walk, or even talk without injuring yourself, all of a sudden.”

Steve blushed crimson and Tony tried very hard not to find it adorable. “No. I was - I was _small.”_

Tony gaped at him. He hadn’t really given it any thought.

“When I first got the serum it was odd to be in a new body, but part of the effect of it was to help me adjust to new situations quickly - body control, spatial awareness. It didn’t take long to feel at home in a body twice as big. This spell, though. It’s like in the car. All my muscle memory is from when I was 16 years old and _it won’t adjust._ I know how big I am, objectively, but my brain thinks it’s driving...” Steve made a vague gesture indicating how small he’d been.

“Oh. That sucks.” Tony wished he could come up with something better to say. But it really did sound like it sucked. It was like working with the holoscreens earlier that day. He _knew_ how to move things, bend and weave the blueprints together. He knew he had done it successfully, many times, but his brain couldn’t make it easy and smooth. Steve apparently felt like that about everything. “Sorry.”

Steve just grunted and shuffled in his seat.

Strange’s arrival interrupted their awkward silence, though the man always seemed to drag around a cloud of awkward silence of his own. He studied the two of them with extreme scrutiny, over steepled fingers.

Tony squirmed under his gaze, Steve blushed.

“There’s a spell on you,” Strange drawled.

Tony tried not to roll his eyes right out of his head. “Well. Duh.”

Strange arched an eyebrow. “It’s not serious. It’s a temporary thing. It’ll pass on its own.”

“How long?” Steve asked.

He shrugged. “A day or two? I can’t really say. It’s usually not more than 48 hours for things like this. It’s probably something that touched you - an artifact - or something slipped in your drink. Usually, the effects are more along the line of paralysis, or deep sleep. Something debilitating. This is...interesting.”

He tipped his head with curiosity and Tony recoiled. He had the distinct sense that he was about to be asked if he was okay being hooked up to electrodes and having his blood taken. Or the mystical equivalent. “Okay, well thanks then. I guess we’ll be off. If it’s really that harmless we’ll just power through.”

Tony started to rise, but Strange spoke again. “Do you know who it was?”

Steve shook his head. “We have our suspicions though.”

“Well, be careful. It’s not inherently dangerous, but it is powerful. Anyone who can pull that off should be watched carefully.”

Tony nodded, grabbed Steve’s sleeve and walked out, shooting Strange a jaunty, little wave as they exited. Strange just sighed, slamming the door behind them without touching it. Dude was really mastering that eerie shit.

Steve convinced Tony to walk back, since they seemed to be in no rush, stuck waiting for this thing to wear off. He shot a text to the others, letting them know how pointless their meeting had been. At least it was good to know it wasn’t permanent. Not only was it impossible to imagine never driving again, but the sheer agony of being around Steve was so intense - and seemed only to be worsening - that if it were permanent he would have to quit the team and move halfway around the world.

Steve was pinballing his way down the street at Tony’s side. Tony considered him. He didn’t seem that different, besides suddenly having the coordination of a newborn giraffe on roller blades. A little blushier, a little more relaxed. Really, he was by far the closest to his teen years than any of them normally, so probably that wasn’t much of a surprise.

He did have this air of… pluckiness that was new. He moved on the balls of his feet, eyes darting around, a cheeky half-smile waiting for its chance to bloom.

That made a horrible kind of sense too. The last few years of adulthood had not been kind to Steve Rogers, perhaps it was all for the best that the memories were hazy.

Tony found himself wiping sweaty palms on his pants again.

**

When they arrived back at the tower, they found Bruce, Clint, and Nat spread out across the library. There was a lot of junk food around Bruce, as well as an immense pile of books. Nat was wrapped in a blanket, her feet tucked up under her on her chair. She had a laptop balanced on her knees and still looked distinctly uncomfortable.

They hadn’t found anything on the spell, or at least nothing Strange hadn’t already confirmed, but they did have a lead on the Crimson Cowl. Nat and Clint had hit up some connections in SHIELD and a few had yielded something solid to go on.

So now the awkward decision - go after her now, or wait until this had worn off?

“The thing is,” Tony pointed out. “Is that we don’t know why she teenage witched us in the first place. To get us out of the way? To trip us up? For fun? What if it’s a distraction while she does something truly dastardly?”

Steve nodded slowly. “It feels like a distraction.”

“It’s not like you’re in any position to fight, though,” Clint reminded them. “If it was a distraction _it’s working._ If we try to take her down now, it could end badly.”

“It could end badly if we don’t.” Steve’s voice was firm, more Captainy than Tony had heard him sound since last night. Then he attempted to sit down on one of the armchairs, missed it completely, and tumbled to the floor with a yelp, completely ruining its impact. Tony reached out and hooked a hand under his elbow, helping him up onto the seat.

Once he was settled, Tony made the bizarre decision to perch on the arm of Steve’s chair, instead of choosing one of his own. Steve’s nearness crackled and popped.

“Why don’t we wait for Thor?” Clint suggested.

“We don’t know how he’s been affected. He might not even respond.” Nat unfolded herself and set her laptop aside.“I vote with Steve. This girl is dangerous. Even if she’s not the one causing this, or she didn't do it on purpose, the longer we let her roam, the greater the risk she’ll hurt someone.”

Bruce nodded slowly. “I can’t say I’m looking forward to it, but I think you’re right.”

“Alright, then we go for it.” Tony rested his hand on Steve’s shoulder in a reassuring way, then snatched it back when he realized how awkward that was, then panicked slightly when he realized how much more awkward it was that he’d pulled away. “Sure, we might be a bit rough, fighting like this, but we’re the fucking Avengers. We can’t be that bad.”

They were a complete disaster.

With the help of SHIELD’s Intel, they tracked the girl down without too much trouble, but when it came to subduing her, things didn’t go too well. Bruce discovered early on that one massive side-effect of the spell was that he couldn’t transform into the Hulk. He stood in the street looking unbelievably constipated for a moment, then turned, stunned, to look back at the others. Realizing he was useless, he’d pretty quickly made off, back to the car, and left the other four to face her alone.

Nat was still as sharp and agile as ever, though she lacked some of the finesse and self-control that must have come from SHIELD training. She didn’t hold back, but she also made more mistakes.

Steve was a hot mess. The shield was just as likely to bounce off Tony’s armour, as it was to go anywhere near their foe. It didn’t help that none of them wanted to hurt the girl herself but she was shrouded in her magical cowl and it wouldn’t let any of them get close enough to restrain her. It wrapped over her shoulders and up around her head, obscuring her face. It curled and twisted and stretched as if it were alive.

She also hovered several feet off the ground, the whole time.

Normally this wouldn’t be a problem because Tony had the suit. But Tony was also having _problems._

The muscle memory issues with the car and the holoscreens were multiplied by a thousand in the suit. He was feeling deeply, deeply sympathetic towards Steve as he careened through the air, bouncing off of every flat surface. The repulsors never seemed to fire at the right time, the banking was all wrong, he couldn’t get the HUD to display in a way that didn’t completely obscure his vision, and JARVIS kept _arguing with him._

“I’m sorry, Sir. I’m attempting to adjust the repulsor thrust mid-flight, but it’s simply not possible to predict when you are this unstable.”

“I’m not unstable, you’re unstable,” Tony huffed out, making a broad pass and trying to fire the repulsors towards the cape without getting caught in it. It stretched out towards him, knocking him off course and he tumbled into a tree.

He glanced over and saw Clint pull one of his shock arrows out of his quiver. They had flat heads and worked similarly to Nat’s stun discs. One good hit and she should be brought down pretty effectively, magical cape or no.

Clint waited until she was distracted by Steve heaving the shield awkwardly towards her, and fired. A long tendril of the cape curled around and snatched Clint’s arrow out of the air and the hint of a smile peeked out of the shadowy crease in the hood.

There was a violent crack of thunder and a shaft of light split the sky open. Thor appeared, backlit by a jagged bolt of lightning. The girl staggered to the side, blinded, landing on the ground for the first time, and Clint shot again. This time the stun arrow hit her square in the face and her whole body seized. She fell to her knees. The cape ripped the arrow off her face, but it took her a moment to rise and in that small window, Thor’s quick thinking allowed him to swing Mjolnir down on the end of her cowl.

It jerked wildly, but it was pinned to the ground by the magical hammer. The girl inside struggled for a moment, looking panicked. The hood fell away from her face and Tony could see the moment she decided to bail out. “She’s gonna bolt!” he screamed and Natasha appeared out of nowhere.

She reached up towards the centre of the cloak and a brilliant flash whited out Tony’s vision. When the suit’s cameras came back online, he swung around awkwardly to where Natasha stood. She had a firm handful of the girl’s shirt, keeping her pinned on her knees. The cowl was gone, presumably having teleported just as Nat released the clasp.

That was the thing about magical artifacts - they were dangerously unpredictable, and at the end of the day, not that loyal, it seemed.

Tony hit the ground and tumbled forward a few steps before he caught himself. Steve appeared at his side, Clint swung down from his perch, Thor picked up Mjolnir, and they all converged around the girl.

She was younger than Tony had expected, though her black hair had a white streak in the front. She pouted and glared at them, but didn’t speak.

“It seems I’ve arrived just in time!” Thor grinned at them with his usual infectious good humour, even in the face of mortal peril.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, Pikachu. Good timing.” He tried to step to the side a little, but ended up firing the repulsors on his left hand and foot and tumbled gracelessly into Thor, who caught him.

“Are you alright?” Thor deposited him back on his feet, looking at him with concern. “I didn’t think you had been hit that hard.”

“No, it’s this damn spell,” Tony grumbled. “I can’t fly the suit. And speaking of this damn spell-” he turned towards the girl, who Natasha still held firmly “- you’ve had your fun, it’s time to remove it now.”

The girl’s eyebrows creased in genuine confusion. She looked like she was struggling with whether she should play the strong, silent type, or try to defend herself. In the end she ground out, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” between gritted teeth.

“The mind-altering spell. The teenage one,” Steve clarified. “Tell us how you did it.”

She looked around at each of them, then up at Natasha. “I didn’t do a spell.” Natasha’s hand clenched and she squeaked. “Seriously! I didn’t do a spell. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“What spell _are_ you talking about?” Thor asked. They all looked at him.

“We’ve all been cursed,” Nat explained. “It makes you feel like a kid again, affects your memories. Don’t you feel it?”

Thor shook his head. “Definitely not. I was not a particularly generous child. I probably wouldn’t have come to your aid if I had been affected. I was more concerned with challenging threats too big for me on Asgard. And getting drunk!” He laughed, twirling Mjolnir in his hand.

The team all stared at each other.

“We thought it was her…” Tony started.

“...because Clint didn’t get cursed.” Steve finished. “If Thor didn’t get cursed either, but he was here for the battle, then maybe it wasn’t her.”

“It wasn’t me!” she insisted. “Let me go.”

“Oh I don’t think so,” Natasha growled. “The cape may be gone for now, but don’t think you’re getting off so lightly.” She turned back to the group. “I’ll take her to Strange, I think his team is better equipped to handle her.”

Steve nodded.

Clint went with her, in case she acted up again on the way. They took the car, with Bruce still in it, so Tony and Thor flew back to the tower, Steve clutching Thor’s side in a very damsel in distress way. Tony would like to have carried Steve himself, but the suit still wasn’t listening to him and he didn’t think Steve would have enjoyed the number of buildings he clipped on his way back.

They hit the landing pad together. Thor, unaware of Steve’s current issues with body control, let him go as he landed and the momentum threw Steve completely off balance. He tumbled over the edge of the pad and Thor had to dive over and grab him again. He set him down more carefully this time, not letting go of the back strap on his uniform until he was safely inside.

Tony spent so long arguing with the suit removal robots that Clint, Bruce, and Nat were already back by the time he was free. They congregated in the kitchen.

“If it wasn’t her, who was it?!” Tony growled, grabbing two ice packs out of the freezer. He slapped one to the side of Steve’s face, and tucked the other against his own side. Steve flinched, then adjusted it slightly, sighing and nuzzling into the numbing cold.  
  
Tony briefly wished he were that ice pack, but his anger and frustration overpowered other feelings for the moment.

“I have no idea,” Bruce breathed out, sounded slightly awestruck. It was powerful magic indeed, to keep the Hulk from appearing.

Clint hopped up on the counter and opened the cabinet behind him, pulling out a snack. “Do we have any other evil masterminds in play right now?”

They all thought about it. Nothing. The sound of Clint munching his cookies was the only thing breaking the silence.

Tony looked up thoughtfully at Clint. He was eating more of the Tagalongs.

Things Thor hadn’t been around for... and Clint hadn’t… but the rest had…

He snapped his eyes to Steve’s and this time the thought beamed the other way. Steve looked at Tony, then at Clint and then his mouth fell open. “The cookies.”

“The fucking cookies,” Tony echoed. “Strange said it could be something someone ‘slipped in our drinks’ but we didn’t even think of food. Thor wasn’t here for the cookies, but Clint was. But Clint only ate Tagalongs, he didn’t touch the Thin Mints.”

“The rest of us only ate Thin Mints,” Bruce finished.

Steve’s eyes snapped to the box in Clint’s hand. “Where did you buy those?”

Clint gestured. “Outside the bank, on the corner. There were three or four girls with a table. They were legit Scouts! They had the little sashes and everything.”

“Why would a Girl Scout curse us?” Nat asked.

No one had an answer.

“Maybe it wasn’t them.” Steve shrugged. “Maybe someone snuck them into the pile. I mean, they might not even have been meant for us.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out!” Tony tossed his ice pack aside and snatched his coat off the back of a chair. He swooped out of the kitchen, the others hot on his heels.

The entire team marching down the street caught quite a few startled glances - even more so since Steve could barely stay on two feet most of the time. They formed a sort of ring around him, propping him back up every time he stumbled.

Well, evil masterminds these girls clearly were not - they were still there. The table was set out just outside the bank. A green cloth covered it, and it was piled high with boxes of cookies.

“Those are the same three girls,” Clint murmured into Tony’s ear.

Steve suddenly looked worried, putting on the brakes and bringing the whole group to a sudden halt across the street. “We can’t just… attack three, little girls.”

“Leave it to me, Cap.” Tony shot Steve a wink when he opened his mouth to complain. He swung his sunglasses up on his face and stepped off the curb before the others could stop him.

“Hey, ladies!” he called out when he reached the table. They gazed up at him in awe. Nice to see being Iron Man still made an impact. “So, we got some cookies from you the other day and they were just so _special_ I had to come back and see if you had any more.” He grinned rather threateningly at them, studying them from behind his sunglasses.

The blonde one on the left looked stunned and more than a little confused. The one in the middle, with about three million pins on her sash, had dollar signs in her eyes - Tony knew that look, he got it a lot. She was probably imagining the moment when she won her three million and first pin for most cookies sold.

The smaller, curly-haired girl on the right looked utterly terrified. Bingo.

“Could I have a word?” Tony asked. The girl nodded, resignation setting her mouth in a hard line. He led her off to the side and gestured to the others to join him. She gazed up at them in terrified adoration. Bruce crouched down in front of her.

“Hi there, you know who we are, right?”

She nodded again.

“Was there anything unusual about the cookies you sold us yesterday?”

Her eyes darted between them, widening slightly when they came to rest on Clint. She must be a Hawkeye fan. Clint smiled encouragingly.

“Um. Yes.” She was so quiet they all leaned in as one to hear her better. “My big sister’s friend found a book that can do magic. I- I thought it was a spell to make you small like me. Kids.”

“Why would you want that?” Bruce asked gently.

“Cause I don’t have any friends.” Her lip quivered. “And you guys are _the best in the whole world._ I thought maybe if we were the same, we could be friends. It was just supposed to be short, like a day. We could hang out. And play a game, or something.”

Steve spoke up. “Why didn’t you tell us? How were we supposed to know, to come find you?”

“I got scared,” she whispered back, looking down at her feet now. “I’m sorry.”

Well, shit. They couldn’t throw an eight-year-old in jail. Tony sighed.

In the end, Bruce and Steve gave her a firm talking to about using magic on people. She looked close to tears, but managed to hold them back. When Bruce asked her where the book was she told him it was at her friend’s house. Steve “Always Be Prepared” Rogers pulled a notepad out of his pocket and got her to scribble the address down.

They could deal with it later, though, after this craziness had worn off. They’d caught the Crimson Cowl, they’d tracked down this little cookie sorcerer. If nothing else was pressing, Tony wanted a shower and to finally get that cigarette.

Clint walked her back to her table. Tony glanced back and saw him crouch down and talk to her for a moment. He handed her a piece of paper and she smiled a little and nodded. He patted her on the head and jogged to catch up with the others.

“What was that about?” Tony asked him.

Clint grinned. “Girl’s got pizazz, she’ll make a good Avenger someday.” He laughed and Tony rolled his eyes.

**

As one, they all seemed to decide that the best thing to do was split up and suffer in lonely silence until the spell passed. At least they would stop embarrassing themselves in front of each other. Tony was exhausted by being in a constant state of tension in Steve’s presence. It still hadn’t gotten any easier - if anything it was continuing to get worse.

He needed a breather.

He took a quick shower, found a cigarette and smoked it with deep satisfaction on the balcony, then brushed his teeth four times until he couldn’t taste it anymore.

He padded his way down the hall, headed to the common space with the cushiest furniture. He passed the gym and noticed light spilling out of the cracked door. Wondering if Steve might be burning off his adolescent energy versus a punching bag - and wanting an image of that for future use if he was - he poked his head in.

The boxing equipment sat unused in the dark, but the far corner of the gym was gently lit. It was an empty studio space. Large mirrors covered one wall. A figure stood, bathed in warm light, in the centre of the empty floor: Natasha. She wore tight leggings and a fitted tank top and well-worn pointe shoes, the ribbons criss-crossing up her calves.

She rose to one toe, the other leg lifting and angling straight out to the side, strong and sure. A small step, then she spun, her head snapping around to focus on the mirror once more. There was no music playing, but as she danced, Tony could hear it, the beat at least, guiding her across the floor. It was the first time since all this started that she looked comfortable in her own skin. Tony had never seen her dance before.

It was beautiful.

He watched, entranced, for several minutes without being spotted, so wrapped up in her movement she was, that she’d let her spy’s guard down. She stopped, balanced on one perfectly pointed toe and bent down to stretch towards the floor. Her face tilted into the light and Tony could see her expression clearly for the first time. She was glowing with a serene smile, calm, controlled. He suddenly felt like he was intruding so he backed out and shut the door silently behind him.

He finished his journey to the comfiest couch and curled up amongst the squishy cushions. He flicked on the TV, scrolling through the options as he ran his hand through his still-damp hair.

There was a thud around the corner and a moment later, Steve appeared, rubbing his arm. He stopped dead when he saw Tony.

“Sorry, I’ll just - “ He waved his hand towards the door to indicate leaving, though “attempting to leave” would probably be more accurate with his current aim.

“No, it’s okay,” Tony rushed out, not sure why he was so eager for Steve to stay when ten minutes ago all he’d wanted was to be alone. Steve rocked back and forth, trapped by uncertainty. “I was going to watch Empire Strikes Back?” Tony tried.

“Oh. I like that one.” Steve’s brow furrowed and Tony could understand why. It was unbelievably disconcerting to _know_ that you liked a movie, to _know_ that you’d seen it, and to even be able to describe what happens in it while, at the same time, feeling like you were remembering a movie that had been seen by someone else. Empire was one of Tony’s childhood favourites, however, so he remembered it with perfect clarity. It was one of the reasons he’d chosen it.

“I know, it’s weird. But yeah. I mean, we could watch something from when you were a kid, if it’s too strange. What kind of movies did you like? Or do you - Or maybe you didn’t get to see many movies?” _Shut up Tony, stop babbling. He wants to leave, let him leave._ “It doesn’t matter. You don’t have to uh, stay, I’ll just - “

Steve made a strange, affirmative-sounding huff and strode across the room with purpose, managing to avoid the many obstacles with impressive determination. He sat down hard on the couch, leaving a solid cushion and a half between himself and Tony. He looked like he was about to be asked to write an exam he hadn’t studied for, but was trying not to let it bother him.

“Star Wars sounds good, “ he said firmly.

“Okay,” Tony replied with extreme trepidation.

JARVIS lowered the lights a little and started the movie. Steve adjusted himself on the couch and Tony suddenly realized he was holding his breath. Why were they sitting together, in the dark, watching a movie when there was all this palpable tension between them? It was an exquisite, self-inflicted torture and Tony hated it and never wanted it to end.

Tony half-watched as Luke got himself into trouble on Hoth. Steve appeared to be glued to the screen but Tony’s eyes kept dragging themselves over to Steve. He should say something, acknowledge this thing between them. That would make it less tense, right?

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Steve took that moment to glance over at Tony and he snapped his mouth shut and wrenched himself back to the movie. Han was doing unspeakable things to a tauntaun.

Steve cleared his throat and leaned back, shifting a little towards Tony as he settled. Tony’s heart immediately jacked up from Clint Just Jumped Out of a Cupboard speed to Drank Seventeen Coffees and Ran a Marathon.

His skin was threatening to vibrate right off his body. Steve was being all _right there._ In such a _right thereish way._ It would be so easy to tuck up against him, maybe hold his hand…

 _Fuck_ , not that again.

Tony was sure he could feel the heat radiating off Steve’s side, just a foot away. He knew his reaction to this was immature and blown out of proportion, but trying to access the adult feelings he knew he should be having, and not being able to, was stressing him out more.

“They did that with a puppet, right?” Steve asked out of nowhere and Tony leapt up off the cushion, turning it into a cough and settling about three inches closer to Steve than he had been before. Yoda was do or do notting on the screen

“Yeah, he’s a puppet.”

“Movie magic,” Steve mumbled.

Steve was really watching the movie. Did that mean he wasn’t feeling this? Maybe it was just Tony - _oh god, what if it was just Tony?_

He’d kind of been operating under the assumption that they were trapped in this agony together, but what if Steve didn’t feel it at all? What if he’d been reading into this all wrong and Steve didn’t care and wasn’t into him and if Tony tried to hold his hand he would laugh and push him away and make fun of them, and even when this all wore off he’d still remember that _Tony tried to hold his fucking hand -_

And then he looked up and Steve was right there.

Somehow in the middle of his crisis, Steve had shifted half a cushion closer and his thigh was mere inches from Tony’s. Tony looked up at the side of his face, then down at his close, close leg, then up at his face again. Also close.

Steve let out a quiet laugh at something on the screen and Tony’s evil dick decided that was the perfect moment to twitch to life again. "Oh, you asshole," he huffed out and Steve looked at him in surprise. "Um. Not you. Nevermind."

But now they were looking at each other. And Tony had broken the silence. So it felt like he should say something.

Instead, they just stared.

His hand twitched like it might try to hold Steve’s on its own. _Don’t you fucking dare,_ he told it firmly.

Steve’s eyes flicked down to his mouth and he couldn’t help looking at Steve’s. It was very… close. And amazing, and he wanted to be attached to it very badly. Steve wobbled a bit in his seat and Tony leaned in a bit further. They were only inches apart.

He could just.

Lean in.

Steve leaned in too and they met in the middle. It was just a press of lips, at first. Soft and tentative and still so, so awkward. He was sure Steve would be able to feel the heat radiating off his cheeks, and his body was twisted in a weird way and he _still didn’t know what to do with his hands._

But then Steve’s palm snaked over Tony’s thigh and instinct kicked in. He reached up and wrapped his arms around Steve’s neck, drawing him closer, deepening the kiss, exploring where it could go. Steve made a little noise of pleasure and gripped Tony’s thigh firmly.

He was fully hard now, and Steve’s hand was teasingly close to his crotch, but it was a background tingle to the thrill of Steve’s lips against his.

They kissed for what felt like hours. Steve tentatively brushed his tongue against the seam of Tony’s lips and that opened up a whole new avenue of touch they could explore. It was awkward, and ungainly - their teeth clinked more than once and Tony kept forgetting he needed to breathe - but it was also sweet perfection.

Eventually, they pulled back a little. Steve pressed another kiss to the tip of Tony’s nose and he chuckled.

“Wow,” Steve said, eyes wide, and Tony had to agree.

“It’s not just me, right?” Tony asked, as if that made any sense at all.

“Not just you what?” Steve asked, rightfully so.

“The thing.” Tony gestured between them. “I’ve been feeling a thing.”

Steve nodded, then frowned. “Just since the spell, or…?”

“Oh no, for a long time. This just made it… more.”

Steve nodded again, eyes fixed on Tony. “Yeah.”

“Yeah, what?” Tony squirmed.

“Yeah, me too,” Steve rushed out. “Since before. I, uh. Yeah.”

“Oh, good.”

They did more staring.

Steve shifted uncomfortably. His hand was still on Tony’s thigh. He looked down at it. “Um. I’m. I really want to, uh, _keep going -"_  His hand clenched a little and Tony sucked in a breath “- but I think we should, um, wait. Until the spell is gone. You know, just in case.”

Tony had a brief, but intense, conversation with his dick. Dick voted rather enthusiastically for _keep going,_ but Dick was, well a dick sometimes, and really couldn’t be trusted. Tony could summon that much emotional maturity at least.

“Yes. Good. Good point,” he answered quickly, before Dick could get out the powerpoint slides and make his rather convincing case. “But, um. This is nice. We could do more of this?”

Steve didn’t answer. Instead, he pressed back into Tony’s space and their mouths found each other again. Eventually Tony let Steve’s weight tip him backwards on the couch til he lay on his back, with Steve stretched out on top of him. They couldn’t help a little teenage roll of the hips now and again, but the kissing was nice, the tentatively exploring hands were nice. Feeling Steve as a solid weight on his chest was beyond nice.

After a while, the acute need to touch faded somewhat. Steve’s head drifted down to Tony’s shoulder and their attention wandered back to the TV.

The release of tension rippled through Tony’s whole body. He hadn’t even realized how much his body had been suffering through this long day. Having Steve pressed up against him was the ultimate in relaxation. He let out a long, slow breath. Sleep began pulling at his eyelids. The movie kept playing on, but he was missing huge chunks of it with each blink.

In the end, he decided to give in to the call of sleep, but before he closed his eyes he slithered his hand over his chest and wriggled it under Steve’s where it lay spread out over the arc reactor. Steve tightened his fingers around Tony’s, then weaved them together.

Yup. That was the good stuff.

Steve didn’t seem to mind that his palm was kind of sweaty.

**

The first thing Tony felt when he awoke was an immense pressure on top of him, from his shoulder to his ankle, then an overwhelming need for coffee, and finally -

"I remember how to drive."

Steve started awake with a yelp and launched himself off Tony’s chest. He landed on the floor next to the couch in an awkward pile of sleep-rumpled superhero.

"You still seem to be affected though," he added with a wry smile.

Steve blinked at him for a moment. He flexed his fingers then spread his arms wide and brought them together to touch in the middle. "No. No, I'm fine now too."

Tony eyed the rug where he sat then raised an eyebrow at him "Are ya sure?"

Steve rolled his eyes, cheeks colouring. "Yes. I'm just- I've been sleeping alone for a long time. You startled me. I don't normally wake up with someone there."

An awkward silence settled between them. It was wonderfully different though; 24 hours ago this situation would have given Tony heart palpitations (and probably a boner, if he was honest with himself) and Steve would have blushed himself into an early grave.

As it was, the benefit of age and experience allowed Tony to heave a sigh, smile, and accept the discomfort. They could brush off this makeout session and overnight cuddle as an effect of the spell and go back to teammates and awkward friendship.

Or he could grab the super-soldier by the horns and dive into this thing.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?

He leaned back on the couch and opened his arms invitingly. "Wanna start?"

As it turned out, Steve did.

**

Clint watched from his perch on the bookcase as Bruce slunk into the kitchen. He looked around furtively, but didn’t realize he wasn’t alone. There was a certain tension to his shoulders that piqued Clint’s interest; it wasn’t what he was here waiting for, but it was worth noting, nonetheless.

Bruce cut across the kitchen to the trash bin and rooted around for a second. He came up with one of the unopened boxes of cursed Thin Mints.

Ah.

Poor Bruce. He could understand the urge - a way to suppress the Hulk, if only for a day. Well, it seemed that Bruce getting a little relief was just a bonus side-effect of this whole thing. Bruce scurried out again and Clint made a mental note to talk to him about it soon - make sure he was okay.

Only a few minutes later, his reason for stalking the kitchen arrived. Steve and Tony tumbled in wearing nothing but sleep pants and goofy smiles. Clint twirled his phone between his fingers in celebration and grinned. Fina-fucking-ly.

The agony of watching those two idiots dance around each other was worse than any injury he’d sustained in the last battle. He’d seriously considered duct taping them together and stuffing them in a small cupboard for a few days.

In the end, all it had taken was a few well-timed, well-cursed cookies.

Perhaps a little too well-cursed, actually. He’d expected some “releasing of inhibitions” not “full on teenage melodrama” but magic was unpredictable. Nat was dancing again, Bruce was dumpster diving for Hulk suppressants, and these two morons were holding hands in the kitchen at 4am, so it had all worked out in the end.

Nat was going to kill him, of course. The Crimson Cowl had been bad timing, but when were they ever not in mortal danger? In terms of riskiness to the team, this paled in comparison to some of the tactics she’d tried. At least Thor had received his message in time and saved their sorry asses. Nat was going to kill him, yes, but then she was going to forgive him when she found out it had worked.

Then she was going to kill him again when she realized he had won their bet.

The pair’s palpable tension had been stinking up team meetings for ages now; this would be such a relief for the whole team. He wasn’t sure if it would increase safety in the field or not. Stark already had a habit of flying off course when Steve did a particularly impressive shield throw.

Either this would make that better, since he could get an eyeful whenever he wanted, in the privacy of his own tower. Or it would make it a hundred times worse since now Tony be able to imagine with perfect clarity what it would look like with Steve naked.

But either way, it was nice to see his friends finally happy.

He watched the pair move around, collecting drinks and snacks. Steve had a baffled grin, like he'd found out he'd won a lottery he hadn't even entered, and Tony looked like a man who'd been hyperventilating for 20 years and had only now remembered how to breathe.

Clint raised his arms and sighted along an imaginary arrow, pointed right at the centre of Steve’s chest. _Eat your heart out, Cupid._

**Author's Note:**

> It may be obvious, but this bit of nonsense was inspired by the Buffy episode Band Candy. :D 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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